"Perry Rhodan 019 - The Immortal Unknown" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Now Rhodan countered with empathy in his voice.
"Thora, you're a superb scientist. You must have noticed long ago that we're dealing here with someone in possession of the most highly accomplished technology in the universe. These beings have discovered the innermost secrets of nature. Even with the scientific knowledge of the Arkonides I'm unable, utterly unable, to transform such an enormous star into a nova. These unknown beings are far superior to us."
"You're quite right there. Superior, that is, to the terrestrial barbarians."
Rhodan suddenly grinned. She was playing that old cracked record again as she always did when she ran out of logical arguments.
"Of course, I must agree," he sighed. "Only strange that these barbarians have so quickly mastered your Arkonide technology isn't it?"
"Touchdown in two minutes," the automatic navigator announced. The drone of the engines became even louder. The super-battleship thundered at a steep angle toward the spaceport which already could be seen below. Thora finally remained silent.
Due to the anti-distortion field absorbing the deceleration they were not impeded in their movements by the braking manoeuvre.
"Don't try to slam the door!" Bell shouted after her as she left. "It's 36 inches of solid armourplate."
Khrest lowered his head. The ill-fated trip to the Earth's solar system had become the worst disappointment of his life. The human race was too young, too adventurous and eager to learn, to be fully appreciated by the descendant of a degenerating race. Nevertheless Khrest endeavoured to practice tolerance. He had for some time realized that mankind was about ready to assume the heritage of the Great Imperium. Men like Rhodan seemed to be predestined. They scorned compromise and had an unlimited thirst for knowledge. They had a great capacity to stand up under painful reverses, and it looked as if a race of such men was made to rule the world. The Arkonides had long lost those talents which their ancestors, too, had possessed many years ago. But this was now ancient history.
Stardust II came down like a giant falling meteor. Only a few feet above the ground was its velocity fully retarded. The impulse waves from the mammoth engines in the ring around the middle of the hull churned up the ground and large molten puddles formed under the heat. The huge pads of the telescoped landing-legs buried themselves noisily in the rock-hard synthetic surface of the spaceport.
Stardust II had returned to the first cosmic trading base of the human race. Twenty-seven light-years separated the vast Vega system from the home world. However, this presented no problem for vessels of the Stardust's class.
The engines came to rest but the whirlwind was still to come.
Searing pressure waves roared with such force across the surface of the spaceport that smaller Ferronian crafts were torn from their take-off ramps. The super-battleship was once again a grandiose mountain of perfect harmony suddenly transplanted on the landing field.
The men in the auxiliary ships of the Good Hope class which had already arrived in the meantime, ducked instinctively. The supergiant had set down precisely within the marked field.
Lt. Everson readjusted the observation screen to normal. He did it with a feeling of resignation. Gradually and carefully he turned the step-switch of the optical magnifier to the right. However, he was unable to bring the Stardust, which had come down over 500 yards away, into full view on his screen. All he could see was a section of the shiny metallic sphere measuring 2500 feet in diameter, its mass blocking out the sight of everything else.
"Now we've been downgraded to grasshoppers again," he said weakly. "What the heck, but only a few moments ago we really thought we had some colossal spaceships here ourselves. A little depressing isn't it?"
He glanced. at Capt. McClears who was hastily putting on his best uniform.
"Am I glad that the old man has come back!" grunted McClears. "Man, give me a hand!"
"I'm hungry," Everson complained. "During such a state of biological dependence I feel quite incapacitated. The zipper is one eighth of an inch from your finger-tips."
McClears swore horribly. The heavy-set lieutenant nodded solicitously.
"You said it," he agreed in a sepulchral tone of voice.
"You'll never reach that zipper. We'll have to get a telekinetic mutant."
"Come and help me!" the captain roared in disgust. I'll have to get aboard immediately. The old man will chew me out something awful if I don't show up within five minutes."
"That would be more than I could bear," Everson mused loudly. "Okay, step a little closer. I can't get up right now."
Grinning from ear to ear Everson relished McClears' voluble imprecations. Perry Rhodan had used very good judgment when he selected his men to serve on board the greatest spaceship of all times. These daredevils remained unperturbed under any conditions except when they were given nothing to do.
Everson and McClears represented a typical example of the spirit among the spacefighter force. They were constantly ribbing each other murderously but fused together like one brain when the going got tough. That was all that mattered!

* * * *

The eight auxiliary ships were hauled aboard with well-trained ease. The super-battleship had swallowed the mighty spacespheres as smoothly as a dinosaur gulping an unwary mud-fish. The Guppies were strictly auxiliary ships.
About 15 minutes after their arrival the Thort of Ferrol announced his visit. The wise ruler of the far-flung planet system still did not know that Rhodan was an Earthling. Owing to the tremendous technical power at his command he was presumed to be a sovereign agent of the Great Imperium. Only in this manner had Rhodan been able to secure a psychological advantage for his negotiations.
The Ferrons excelled the humans in most respects and could not have been induced to conclude a trade treaty with Earth had they known the true situation there.
The Thort sat down in the imposing command centre of the super-battleship. He was of small but muscular stature, and could not hide the ravages the recent events had wreaked on his body. The pale-blue skin of his tiny face had taken on a pitiful grey tone. He had become old and stooped under his burden of worrisome troubles.
His deep-set eyes were hardly discernible. Rhodan was plagued by self-reproach when he caught sight of the Thort. The Ferron feared the extinction of his race.
"What do you propose to do?" he asked, dejectedly. "Will you assist us in our evacuation with your mother-ship?"
The attending members of the Great Council of Science looked hopefully at the tall lean man in the unadorned uniform. Rhodan knew that his answer was bound to sadden their expectations. He paused and cleared his throat. The officers of Stardust II pretended to be indifferent
John Marshall, one of the most talented mutants in the special corps, unobtrusively probed the mind of the Ferronian ruler. It was easy for the accomplished telepath to divine the thoughts of the alien intelligence. The Thort was strictly preoccupied with the fate of his race. He did not contemplate any devious actions.
"Everything is alright," Marshall inaudibly informed Rhodan. Rhodan received the telepathic message from brain to brain as a soft whisper.
Still trying to control his emotions, Rhodan began by pointing out:
"Any effort to evacuate the population would he senseless. Even the big vessel is not sufficient to move out the population from the three inhabited planets of your empire. The outer planets, which are up to now little affected by the nova, will also disintegrate when the explosion occurs. Where shall I take your people?"
"The old Ferron helplessly stretched out his open hands.
"I put my trust in you. I don't know where."
"Sir, your sun will explode like a bomb in about three weeks Ferrol time. Please regard my arguments as factual. There is only one solution, which to normalize the star again. However, this is not in my own power. But I'll find ways and means to spare you from the worst."
The Thort sat up. He raised his stooped shoulders. "Ways and means?" he repeated hopefully. "What possibilities do you have in mind?"
"I know exactly where the source of the trouble can be found. I want to take off without delay. Please refrain from continuing the evacuation which is far beyond the capacity of your space-fleet. Every Ferron you transport to the outer planets will be in a hostile environment bereft of the comforts of your high civilization and technology. You'll condemn your people to death. Remain here and wait!"
"He'll ask you a question," Marshall warned, just before the Thort posed his inquiry.
"I must beg your indulgence," Rhodan declined firmly.
"I regret that I'm not at liberty to divulge where the perpetrator of this conflagration will be found. But I can promise you to find him. You can depend on me."
When the Thort left, Rhodan saluted him smartly and correctly with all due honours.
As soon as the armoured hatch had closed behind the despairing Ferronian ruler, Reginald Bell took a deep breath.